The Shift
676 Words
Lyra’s POV
That night, she lay awake staring at the ceiling.
And the dreams returned.
Of him.
Of that night.
But her mind rewrote the edges, again and again.
The leather couch. Her back arched. His voice low.
The cold marble desk. Her palms braced. A heel kicked loose.
The bed. Always the bed.
Sometimes he whispered at her throat:
“You smell like mine.”
She’d wake sweating, throat dry, aching with a memory her mind wouldn’t name.
It wasn’t just want.
It was haunting.
---
She buried herself in routine.
Arrived before eight. Took the stairs. Reapplied scent-masking spray twice in the stairwell bathroom.
Today’s task was minor: annotated financial summaries for Executive Support, Michael Lin’s team.
The elevator doors opened. She nearly collided with someone inside.
“Theo,” she said, startled.
“Morning.” He adjusted the tablet under his arm.
His gaze flicked to her folders. “Talia’s usual delivery?”
“She’s still on leave,” Lyra replied.
“She always made noise on this floor,” he muttered. “Too much for my taste.”
“You didn’t like her?”
“I didn’t trust her,” Theo said. “There’s a difference.”
The elevator chimed. Floor 23. She stepped out.
He didn’t follow.
---
Michael Lin greeted her at his desk. Vest crisp, tie loosened just enough to suggest late nights and quiet competence.
“Lyra,” he said, like her name meant something.
She handed over the reports. “Updated annotations. Red tabs are legal notes.”
He took them gently. His fingertips brushed hers.
“I’ll loop you in if anything shifts.”
She nodded. “Understood.”
His gaze lingered. “You been okay?”
Her voice tightened. “Fine.”
“If you need..anything. Just ask.”
She left before the warmth in his voice could reach her ribs.
---
Theo’s POV – Fifteen Minutes Later
Michael’s desk was empty, boardroom prep.
One file remained. Red tab. No label.
Theo flipped it open.
Projected financials. Internal pre-review. Lin’s team was improving.
He slid it under his arm without second-guessing. It wasn’t the folder he meant to grab, but he didn’t stop himself either.
Cassian’s door opened. He stepped inside.
“Q3 packet,” he said. “From Lin’s desk.”
Cassian didn’t look up. “Leave it.”
Theo did.
---
Cassian’s POV
He hadn’t requested anything new. But something in the folder tugged.
It wasn’t the content.
It was the handwriting.
Not Lin’s square script. This was smaller. Angular. Precise.
He turned a page. Then another.
Revenue loss offset – suggest partner incentives.
Clean. Strategic. Unmistakably intelligent.
He leaned back. Eyes narrowing.
This wasn’t Lin. It wasn’t anyone he recognized.
But the shape of the thought. It curled behind his ribs. A kind of instinct, coiling sharp and low.
It felt like discovery.
He closed the folder slowly.
---
Lyra’s POV
Her screen pinged:
>SYSTEM: Q3 Revision file opened by EXECUTIVE OFFICE – 9:38 AM
Her heart jerked.
That wasn’t Michael.
Ping.
Document forwarded to: THEODORE ARLEN
No.
She hadn’t given anything to Theo. Only to Michael.
It was just a file. He wouldn’t notice.
He couldn’t.
Could he?
Michael must’ve left it out.
She pressed her hands flat against her desk to stop the trembling.
The screen blurred.
And something behind her ribs began to crack.
---
Cassian’s POV – Later
Theo returned with a new agenda packet.
Cassian didn’t glance up. Just lifted the folder.
“Who made these edits?”
Theo blinked. “Wasn’t labeled. I assumed Lin.”
Cassian shook his head once. “It’s not.”
He ran his thumb over a margin note. A single bracket—slanted, curved inward.
Deliberate.
“I want a name. Quietly.”
Theo didn’t ask why.
He already knew.
---
Lyra’s POV
Her screen blinked again:
>HR: Please confirm availability for a brief check-in — 10:30 AM tomorrow
She stared at the message.
Then whispered, “Please. No more. Not again.”
.
- Writer
